Can I Talk to You (G Street Chronicles Presents)

by Nicole Jackson

  After three nuts between us, I forgot all about his ringing cell.

  I decided to cook Trent a Sunday dinner while he watched football. I felt all domesticated and shit. For the first time, I felt like I had a man versus a boyfriend; and I found myself wanting to do special things for him all the time. I knew that he loved broccoli cheese casserole, so I called my aunt up and got the recipe.

  Just as I was placing the dish in the oven, I heard glass shattering. I ran into the living room where Trent was sitting and took a peek out the window before he even had a chance to stand. I got a glimpse of the light-skinned chick from the movies jumping back in a car and speeding away.

  “What the fuck was that?” Trent asked as he walked over to the window.

  “You just missed your girlfriend,” I spat as I walked away from the window.

  He looked out the blinds. “Fuck!” he yelled.

  I walked outside to further examine the damage she had done to his Benz. She had broken out two windows and left a note on the windshield. It read:

  I see that you have been lying up with this bitch all weekend long. Does she know that you’re a lying ass dog that has no consideration for other people’s feelings? Does she know that you use to fuck me all night long? How can you just act like we never happened? Why wasn’t my love enough for you? You went and got yourself a Reebok broad. Isn’t that rich? But it’s all good because I hope the bitch knows that she’ll never have one day of peace while she’s with MY MAN!!!!!!!!

  I couldn’t believe the nerve of that bitch! I wished that I would have been out there when she pulled up so that I could’ve slid her ass across the pavement.

  “Who the fuck did this?!” Trent fumed as he walked outside.

  I handed him the piece of paper and went back inside the house.

  “Keirah!” he called after me, but I just kept on walking.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he asked me as he walked back into the house.

  “What’s my problem? My problem is that you are a fucking liar!”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, looking confused.

  “You said that I was the first girl to ever come to your house.”

  “And you are,” he nodded.

  “So, tell me how this bitch knows where you live, huh?”

  “Keirah, I don’t have a fucking clue. She ain’t never been here before. I don’t know if the bitch followed me home or what, but I never brought her here before.”

  “You expect me to believe that, Trent?”

  “It’s the truth!” he roared.

  “Yeah, whatever! Take me home!” I screamed. I didn’t even know that I was crying until I felt the tears slide down my face.

  “Baby,” he whispered, as I tried to walk away from him. “Don’t let her do this to us,” he pleaded as he grabbed me.

  “Don’t lie to me, Trent,” I sobbed into his chest.

  “Baby, I’m not lying to you. I put that on everything that I love,” he insisted, as he rubbed my back.

  I was so disappointed in myself. I hadn’t had a breakdown of this magnitude in like forever. There I was standing there in his arms with no control over my emotions. I couldn’t stop crying.

  “Baby, stop that,” he whispered. “Why are you letting this shit get to you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I sniffled.

  “It’s just me and you. I promise.”

  * * * * *

  On Friday after I got off of work, I went home to find Trent sleeping shirtless on my couch. He must’ve been tired, because he was snoring loudly. He was knocked out while his arms were crossed sitting on his chest, and one leg rested on the couch while the other was on the floor. His mouth was wide open and he was beginning to drool.

  “Trent,” I verbalized, trying to wake him up.

  There was no response.

  “Trent!” I yelled that time.

  He jumped out and looked around. “Huh? What’s up?” he asked, disoriented.

  “You were tired, huh?” I cheesed.

  “Hell, yeah,” he rubbed his eyes and then glanced at his Rolex. “You just getting here?”

  “Yep,” I admitted, as I sat on the other end of the couch.

  “Ain’t you kind of late?”

  “Not really,” I shrugged.

  He glanced down at his watch again. “You been off for damn near two hours.”

  “Yeah, I made a few stops.”

  “A few stops, huh?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “Umm hmm,” I nodded.

  “A’ight, play with me if you want to,” he warned.

  I scrounged, “What are you talking about?”

  “Why didn’t you call me and tell me that you wasn’t coming straight home?”

  “Cause, I didn’t know that you were here.”

  “That’s what the phones are for,” he snapped.

  “Trent, you woke up grouchy,” I complained.

  “No, I didn’t. I just don’t like when you handle shit like this. Making sure that I know where you are, is called having respect for your man.”

  “Okay, Trent. My bad. I’ll call next time,” I sighed. He wouldn’t let the smallest thing slide.

  “Yeah, okay. But do you see how much time you wasted? It’s almost nine o’clock. It’s damn near time to get ready for the party.”

  “What party?”

  “The party that I mentioned the other day.”

  “Oh, but what do I have to do with you getting ready for a party?”

  “Cause you’re coming,” he informed me.

  “We didn’t discuss this.”

  “Yes we did, Keirah. I told you that I wanted us to go to one of my boy’s party and you asked when.”

  “I didn’t know that you were talking about me and you going.”

  “So, what are you saying? You don’t want to go with me?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just didn’t know that I was going anywhere.”

  “Well, now you know. So, start getting ready,” he dictated, as he stood up and headed for the stairs.

  “Are you asking or telling me?” I followed behind him.

  “Whatever you need to believe to get the job done.”

  I went over to my closet and didn’t know what to wear. I usually liked wearing a short mini skirt and an ultra-sexy top to the club, so I was skimming through all my designer skirts. I pulled out a skirt that I hadn’t worn yet. When I tried it on in the mall it was short on me and borderline risqué.

  “What’s that you got in your hands?” Trent asked.

  I glanced down. “It’s a skirt.”

  “For who, a baby?”

  “No, it’s cute. You don’t like it?”

  He took it out of my hand and examined it. “Yeah, on my five-year-old cousin. This shit is too short.”

  “All my skirts are about this length,” I told frowned.

  “Well then you might need to wear some pants,” he suggested, as he threw the skirt on the bed.

  This nigga actually wanted me to wear some pants to the club. How was I going to bring the sexy all covered up? I liked showing off my tight thighs and legs. He was tripping, but I was in no mood to argue, so I searched through my clothes until I found some tight black Armani Exchange jeans and a black and gold bustier top. I think that Trent had bought me the outfit, but I really couldn’t remember if it was me or him.

  After I chose my outfit for the night, I hopped into the shower once Trent was done with his. I bathed myself thoroughly before getting out. Then I flat ironed my hair and brushed my teeth.

  “Baby, are you almost done?” Trent asked me as he glanced at his watch. He was fully dressed in brown and beige Gucci with the same color Gucci loafers on his feet.

  “Don’t be trying to rush me after you took your time to look nice,” I snaked my neck as I searched through my drawers for some panties. I found a pair of back-laced boy shorts and slid them on. Then I grabbed my jeans and struggled my way into
them.

  “You ain’t gon be able to breathe,” he shook his head as he watched me dress.

  Once I had my bustier on, he wasn’t saying much. “What? No smart comment?” I arched my brows, as I checked myself out in my vanity mirror.

  “You look good,” he smiled.

  “Really?” I watched him in the mirror.

  “Yeah,” he nodded.

  For once I was completely happy with what I saw in the mirror. There wasn’t an area that I felt that I needed to work on. My hair was looking nice and healthy. My eye lashes were on point. My breasts were on display and sitting up properly. My waist was finally back to the way that it was before I started getting pregnant by every other loser ass boyfriend. And my hips were making those jeans curve. Even my ass was poking out.

  I threw on my gold accessories and stilettos and was ready to go. “You ready, baby?” I grinned.

  “I was ready hours ago,” he laughed as he pulled me down the stairs. “You look nice, though,” he offered for the twentieth time.

  As we drove to the club in his Benz, I felt good. I had a handsome man on my side with his own money. He was driving foreign just like me, and I hadn’t co-signed for it. I was realizing that I’d been playing fix-a-man with these niggas, trying to groom them to be the men I needed. Trent was the man I needed without my help, and God what a difference that made.

  When we pulled up to the club, he valet parked his car so we didn’t have very far to travel to get inside the club. We were V.I.P. so we didn’t have to wait in the long lines that curved around the building. I looked on as chicken heads rolled their eyes at me as they probably grew corns on their toes from wearing those heels and having to stand for so long.

  In all the years that I’d been going to clubs, I had never been in V.I.P. I felt special. It was obvious that Trent was used to this, because everybody seemed to know him. It was like I’d stepped inside the club with a celebrity. Dudes were walking up to him shaking his hand or giving him dap.

  Once we made it to the section designated for his friends, I could tell that he fucked with cats with major money. Every man there had a bad bitch on their side, which made me feel a little self-conscious. All the chicks had fat asses with small waists. It was like all the women there were the cream of the crop.

  For the first time ever, I wanted to stay in the background because I just didn’t have the confidence to stand out amongst these women. So, I took a seat in a booth and allowed Trent to mingle. Every so often, he would introduce me to one of his boys and then he’d focus back on their conversation.

  Bottle after bottle of Cristal was being popped, and I was pouring up. After my second glass, I was tipsy and the third put me over the top. Then I was able to loosen up. The deejay was playing jam after jam and I was ready to hit the dance floor. The only thing was that everybody seemed to be standing around. I needed to be in the main part of the club because that’s where all the real fun was going on.

  Just as I was about to slide out of the booth, this light-skinned girl walked right up to Trent and wrapped her arms around him.

  * * * * *

  Killah

  “Nigga, I’m telling you. We can make a killing off of this,” Pete slurred.

  I was standing there half listening to him. The Crissy had me feeling good. I glanced to my right and saw a familiar face approaching us.

  “Hey, Killah,” Erica smiled as she swayed up to me and gave me a hug.

  “What’s up, girl?” I tried to pry her arms from my neck.

  “Nothing. I see that life has been good to you,” she grinned as her eyes looked me up and down.

  I have to admit that she was looking good. She was one of the many chicks that I used to fuck while I was with Courtney. Erica was one of the few chicks that actually gave Court a run for her money. She always kept a nice ride and a decent job, but she was a true gold digger to her heart. If a man was even thinking about sampling that, he had to empty his pockets.

  “Yeah, I been doing alright,” I told Erica. I glanced to my left and saw Keirah sliding out of the booth. I thought that maybe she was about to barge in and introduce herself like most chicks would have done, but she kept right on moving. She kept walking until she was no longer in my line of vision.

  I looked back at Erica and it seemed like she’d been watching Keirah walk away too. “That was a cute outfit that chick had on.”

  “Who? Ole girl that just left the booth?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “Yeah. I saw those jeans in the Armani Exchange store. They were like twelve hundred dollars and they didn’t have my size.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I need to ask her where she got hers from.”

  “That came from the store in Dallas,” I hunched my shoulders.

  “How do you know?” she leaned back a bit.

  “Cause I bought them for her.”

  The expression on her face changed immediately. “So, you came here with her?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded as I skimmed over the crowd. I didn’t see Keirah anywhere.

  “Is she your woman?” Erica babbled.

  “Yep.”

  “So, you went and got somebody else on me?” she pouted, as she closed the space between us.

  “Whoa,” I uttered as I backed away from her.

  “Don’t tell me that your girl got you scared.”

  “Not at all,” I moved her to the side. “I’ll be right back,” I walked off. I was trying to find Keirah.

  After walking in circles, I realized that she was not in V.I.P., so I ventured to the main section of the club. It was hard to find anybody in crowds of people; but still, I looked for my gal.

  I figured that she might have gotten lost or something after she went to the restroom until I spotted her on the dance floor. The deejay was spinning R. Kelly’s, “Bump and Grind” remix. She was slithering her body into some dude as he held on to her waist. He was whispering in her ear as she held a grin on her face. Kind of like she did whenever I was telling her about the nasty shit I wanted to do to her.

  I stood and watched her. She danced with the guy through three more songs, before trying to walk away. He grabbed her hand pulling her back to him. She shook her head a few times, but he kept on talking. Finally, she snatched away from him to only get grabbed by another nigga. Only this time it was Pete. That was supposed to be my nigga, and I had just told that nigga that Keirah was my woman. So, at that point I was infuriated.

  As much as I wanted to walk over and check the both of them, I needed to see how Keirah would handle herself, so I watched her talk to Pete. Eventually, her neck got to twisting while her hands rested on her hips. It looked like she was putting him in his place. After a few more words, she stomped off and blindly walked right into me.

  “Excuse me,” she fumbled, not even realizing who I was.

  “You drunk?” I asked her.

  “Huh?” she looked up and noticed me. Her confused look went to one of anger. She tried to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” I gritted, as I pulled her back.

  “Let me go,” she whined, trying to pull her arm away.

  “Stop it,” I clenched as I yanked her.

  “No, go talk to that bitch that you were all hugged up with!”

  “That’s what you’re tripping on? I ain’t concerned about that broad.”

  “Yeah, right,” she spoke over the loud music.

  “Girl, you better stop tripping.”

  “Fuck you!” she slurred on wobbly legs. “You probably told your bitch ass friend to try to talk to me. You niggas think that I’m crazy.”

  I shook my head. She was fucked up. “Let’s go, man,” I headed toward the exit.

  “I ain’t ready to go,” she grumbled, dragging her feet.

  “But you going,” I snapped as we exited the club. “Ay, I’m in the silver Benz,” I said to the valet. Less than five minutes later, they pulled my car up to the curb. I helped Keirah’s drunk ass get in.

>   “Hey man, can you keep an eye on the car? I think that I left my wallet inside,” I asked the Mexican valet.

  “No problem,” he nodded.

  I re-entered the club and made my way back to the V.I.P. section. The big bouncer recognized me and allowed me to slide right back in. I searched the crowds and spotted Pete talking to some broad. I stomped over to them.

  “Ay, can I talk to you?” I asked him.

  “What’s up?” he asked me as he stepped away from the female.

  “You were trying to get at my lil mama?” I opened my arms. “I thought we were better than that, my nigga.”

  “My nigga, you approaching me over a bitch?!” he asked, getting indignant.

  I don’t know who this nigga thought he was talking to. I could have sworn that he knew my pedigree, but the liquor must have had him feeling himself.

  “You know what, my nigga? I’m tripping,” I grabbed my nose as I turned to leave only to spin around and take a swing at him. His jaw connected with my fist and his body stumbled to the ground. My feet had a mind of their own as they viciously kicked him repeatedly.

  “Chill, nigga!” Big Jeff yelled as he came out of nowhere.

  I gathered my composure and backed away from Pete as security tried to make their way through the crowd. I found the closest exit and hauled ass. I hopped in my car and skidded out of the lot. Through all of this, Keirah never even blinked since she was passed out in the passenger’s seat.

  Chapter 19

  Keirah

  “You better learn how to act!”

  “Aw nigga, fuck you,” I waved Trent off as he called himself checking me. I was feeling good and he had just blown my high. I thought that I was about to lay it down for the night, but he was on some other shit. He’d screamed and shouted the entire ride home, refusing to let me sleep, and he still wouldn’t let shit go.

  “Fuck me? Is that what you just said to me?” he fumed as he stepped in my face. He was steaming hot.

  “Get the fuck out of my face!” I shouted and he stepped back.

  “You don’t know who you fucking with, girl. You don’t ever go somewhere with me and dance all up on other niggas!”

  “What is wrong with dancing?”

  “What’s wrong with it? Ask yourself that same fucking question. Would you be cool if I had my hands planted on some bitch’s ass?”